


Retrieve and Destroy

by flikrin



Series: Dark Angels [2]
Category: Dark Angel, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:09:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2078049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flikrin/pseuds/flikrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because trouble always comes looking for Dean, designation X5-494.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retrieve and Destroy

**Author's Note:**

> Fusion between Dark Angel and Supernatural. AU.
> 
> hc bingo fill – dungeons

Dean was blearily blinking back the last cloying strands of drug induced unconsciousness as he lifted his head off the freezing stone floor. But he only managed a measly centimeter before his head thumped painfully back against the stone.

They must’ve pumped some serious heavy-duty drugs into his system to knock him out for more than half a day.

Most conventional drugs were burned out of a trangenic’s body in less than three hours. Dean’s own time was exactly two hours and forty seven minutes, he knew this intimately after being tested so many times back at the labs.

And no matter how much Dean squinted at the thin high window of his cell, only inky darkness could be seen even with his genetically altered eyesight. Not that it was doing Dean much good. The cramped, dull cell spun in lazy tilting circles.

But there it was again. A ringing sound travelling through steel and stone. The noise was irritatingly loud straight and was reverberating against the side of his head and his ear which was still plastered against the floor.

No wait.  
  
Taptaptap.pause.taptap.pause.taptaptaptap.tap.  
  
Adrenalin surging through his battered body, Dean struggled to sit upright, the gunshot wounds he’d sustained to his torso and thigh still bled sluggishly despite his accelerated healing. He grinned weakly, damn was Castiel going to be pissed when he saw his condition.  
  
Biting back a scream of pain when he jostled his dislocated shoulder, Dean determinedly sent back the confirmation Castiel was waiting for. Sure enough, less than a minute later, the foundations of the enemy base rocked with a series of explosions detonating one after another in a relentless staccato beat.  
  
Dean coughed, straining to breathe with all the dust falling into his dimly lit cell. Grimly, he clenched his teeth together and with his marginally better arm, he hissed as he popped his dislocated shoulder back with an almighty shove.  
  
Dean’s vision went fuzzy and a little black around the edges, but that was okay, Castiel would be coming soon. The thought that the ceiling might collapse on him or that the assault on enemy grounds would fail didn’t even register in his mind, Castiel was too good for that.  
  
Shoving himself onto his butt, Dean leaned against the shaking steel wall, the enemy base groaning at the onslaught. The sharp retorts of gunfire were endless, so were the screams of the dying enemy. Smoke, dust and charred flesh clogged his sensitive nose, making Dean grimace.  
  
The thick steel re-enforced door to Dean’s swung open with a truly cringe worthy squeal to reveal X5-667 and X5-547. Sam, his unit brother rushed over, nearly tripping on his ridiculously big feet while Castiel stood watch. Castiel on the other hand, still managed to glare disapprovingly at Dean even as he kept his gun arm rock steady and an eye out for hostiles.

“Hey, guys,” Dean croaked, grinning wanly. He hissed as Sam systematically cataloged his injuries, assessing the best solution while Dean informed him the best he could about his condition.  
  
“Looks like we’ll have to level the place,” Sam said to Castiel grimly. Then, Sam dropped his gun with a clatter in favour of rummaging through his pouches, which Dean glared at Sam for and Sam glared right back. He pulled out a small bottle of disinfectant and bandages from the bags clipped to his belt. Sam worked quickly, squirting the gunshot wounds liberally before making a rough field compress.  
  
“Sixty seconds,” Castiel warned, his words clipped and he shifted most of his attention down the narrow prison corridor where the muzzle of his gun was pointed at unwaveringly. They’d all heard the frantic pounding footsteps of unfriendly heading their way.  
  
With practiced deftness, Sam packed everything away, snagged his gun and lifted Dean in a fireman carry, ignoring his unit brother’s protests. They entered the prison hallway just in time to meet the enemy rushing down the stairs. Expressionless, Sam just emptied an entire clip into the soldier’s torsos.  
  
The ones Sam missed, Castiel shot between the eyes and the one playing dead, his heartbeat deafeningly loud even in the din and clamour of chaos raging above, Castiel shot him clear in the throat.  
  
“Let’s just get out of here,” Dean slurred, what blood that hadn’t already bled out of him, rushing to his head where he watched Sam’s Kevlar encased back upside down.  
  
“I can’t believe you botched up such a simple mission,” Sam scolded as they double timed it around the strategic weak points of the foundation. Castiel stuck more plastic to the already strained pillars and structures.  
  
Dean scoffed indignantly, “I did not. Mission was a success, Colonel Winchester certainly was pleased with my results.” He gave a rather triumphant woozy grin to Sam’s back. Sam’s upside down back.  
  
“Then how on Earth did you manage to get locked up in veritable Siberia, Wyoming, when you should have returned to base,” Castiel asked pointedly. Leaving the words, _with me_ , unsaid.  
  
Wincing, Dean said hopefully, “Sorry, Cas. I really don’t know how it happened. One moment I was wiping down prints in my operation base and the next thing I knew some bastard had me chained to a chair with heavy duty reinforced steel links. They knew what they were doing, Cas. They were too fucking well prepared for transgenic strength.”  
  
“Fuck,” Sam said as he digested what Dean had revealed, feeling quite chilled. It wasn’t often transgenics met their match in people outside Ragnarok. “All the more reason to burn this whole place down then.”  
  
“Amen to that,” Dean said firmly.  
  
Castiel smiled faintly as they finally burst out from the building and made it to the outer edges of enemy grounds. He triggered the timer device. The entire compound lit up in a fiery burst of light, exploding out with white hot flames incinerating everything in its path, sending plumes of smoke into the atmosphere. The sight of the blackened remains of the prison Dean was kept in for two weeks finally eased some of their tension.  
  
“Amen indeed,” Castiel said.  
  
“Oh, Cas,” Dean said with a chuckle.  
  
Sam too was biting back a smile, “Come on, we have a plane to catch.” He paused, waiting.  
  
Sure enough, from behind him came Dean’s horrified, “Wait what?”  
  
Sam snickered, “Just think, a whole three hour flight back to Seattle, just for you.”  
  
“Fuck no, put me back where you found me!”  
  
Castiel rolled his eyes. “Most likely the medical team will put you under for your injuries,” Castiel told Dean calmly before telling Sam, “Stop taunting him, you’ll only make him bleed out faster.”  
  
Feeling a stab of guilt, Sam grumbled, “You’ll have to get over that ridiculous fear of yours someday. What kind of Ragnarok soldier’s afraid of flying.”  
  
“Well I don’t taunt you about your fear of clowns now do I?”  
  
Sam flushed bright red even as his pulse involuntarily kicked up slightly. “Shut up, I thought you said you wouldn’t tell anyone that!”  
  
“Sam, really?” Castiel asked, one eyebrow arched.  
  
Dean chuckled, “Back in the recon mission in the travelling circus, man, you should’ve seen his _face_.”  
  
Sam jostled Dean slightly. “Not funny. Not funny at all.”  
  
Castiel only gave an all too suspicious cough.

 *

“State your designation.”

“X5-547,” Castiel said into the intercom and flicked a glance back to Sam who was holding Dean up. Dean had passed out almost twenty miles ago and hadn’t stirred to any external stimulus. “X5-667 and X5-494 are also with me.”

The entrance buzzed as the security system unlocked and the door slid open. They trooped in the gun metal gray corridors lit up by two lines of fluorescent ceiling lighting. Reaching the briefing room, Castiel punched in the access codes and they waited with increasing anxiety that made their teeth itch.

Sam laid Dean down on the single metal table and tried not to cringe at the memory of operating tables they’d all been on at more than one time of their lives.

Dean’s head lolled listlessly and his breathing was shallow. Castiel felt the thready pulse of Dean’s carotid artery.

“Fuck, where are they?” Sam growled, pacing the four by four square meter metal room.

The door hissed open and Colonel Winchester stood in the doorway.

“Sir,” Castiel and Sam said at once, snapping to attention.

“Status report.”

“Infiltration, recovery and destruction successful, sir,” Sam recounted, reeling off the information immediately. “X5-494 reported hostiles with sensitive information about trangenics and the existence of soldiers with strength and speed superior to the X5 models.”

Trying not to react to the reminder of how easily Dean had been subdued, Castiel observed from the corner of his eyes that a muscle in Sam’s jaw had also tensed.

Colonel Winchester exhaled harshly, he looked exhausted.

“Sir, X5-494 needs immediate medical attention,” Sam said.

Colonel Winchester nodded and said distractedly, “Take him to medical and get yourselves checked out as well.”

“Yes, sir,” Castiel replied and closed his eyes with gratitude that Colonel Winchester hadn’t ordered for Dean to be taken to Psy-Ops for extraction and termination. That was always a risk for soldiers who came back injured, if they were unlucky, they were taken apart. In fact, some of the organs in Castiel’s body were those of his less fortunate siblings.

Castiel honestly didn’t know what he would’ve done if Colonel Winchester had given the order to take Dean to Psy-Ops. But Dean was safe, for now, if they got him to medical quick enough before the idiot bled out in the briefing room.


End file.
